Post: "Amaro's One-Eighty"
Amanda
I've always tried not to make excuses for myself. It's never gotten me an ounce of respect or any feeling of self worth, but maybe tonight that's all already escaped me. Maybe, I need to tell myself just a few lies to soothe my battered conscience.
It's payday.
The stress of the recent shooting incident with Nick has finally gotten to me.
Maybe, even more convincing, it's been exactly one month since that fateful evening at Olivia's apartment, like some kind of twisted anniversary date I wouldn't dare to forget. Nevermind the fact that she's a sergeant now, my commanding officer.
Three days have gone by since Cragen announced his retirement, and my stomach has been churning for every single goddamn hour of those three days. I'd been able to hide my recent relapse from him with skilled effectiveness, but with Liv in charge now, I feel a weight of dread hanging above me. She could crush me and my career at any time with the knowledge that she holds, and I would only embarrass myself by claiming the affair. I have no upper hand in this, and I don't even feel entitled to one.
Her anger and pain on that chilling morning after has resonated through the empty chambers of my heart with a never ending echo for sixty fucking days. Guilt has become my constant companion - if it wasn't already - and regret accompanies that misery all too well.
I should've let her scream at me, punish me with with all the force of her grief at my betrayal, but instead I lashed out in shame, to hide the horrifying truth that every word she said was true. Whatever trust she breached by going through my things and answering the call is nothing compared to what I have done to her.
After leaving her apartment and the implications settled in, I tried to swear to myself that I truly would get clean this time; but my resolve had only lasted for as long as the sun was up. As soon as darkness fell, the hopelessness returned to swallow me whole, along with whatever pathetic promises I had made in the solitary passages of my mind. The unheard vows slipped away into the night as if they had never been made.
The very next day I created a new persona for myself, a new table at which to drown my sorrow.
Now, seeing Olivia every day at work, and the clouded resentment in her eyes is a daily reminder of just how terribly I've fucked up, but it doesn't stop me disguising myself in shadowed rooms every evening. I've spent more time with a set of cards in my hand in the past two months than before, and my chances of getting out of debt are slim. I know I'm in deep, but the weight of it simply doesn't make the impact that I know it should.
It hardly even crosses my mind tonight as I enter the latest gambling room I've discovered.
Typically, I check out everyone who runs the establishments that I visit, but I hardly even know the owner's name, much less his criminal record. It's reckless when I have so many resources at my disposal with which to protect myself, but I'm not even sure if I want to do that. I'm here to lose myself, to grow giddy off the high, to make it last as long as possible. Whatever comes afterward can be ignored, tucked away into a corner of myself which does not exist at daybreak.
When I get through security, I choose a table where they are just beginning to deal.
"Count me in." I say as I take a seat next to well-dressed older woman.
The other people at the table hardly acknowledge me, their empty, glazed over eyes cast downwards upon their cards. It doesn't bother me.
We're all here for something - to chase a feeling, to strike it rich, to stroke an ego, or maybe, just to grasp a familiar pattern.
I've ordered a drink and smoked half a pack of cigarettes by the time the round is over. I'm down a hundred bucks, but I soothe the loss with the thought that I have all night. I have my head down, counting my chips for the next round when I'm startled by a new person joining the the table, directly next to me.
"Amanda?" A man's surprised tone, and the familiarity of it, snaps me quickly out of my concentration.
My head whips in his direction, and I come face to face with Max. For a moment, I'm frozen, my heart stuttering over itself, mouth agape. In the background, the sounds in the club fade to a white noise as my panic overthrows my faculties.
"I thought that was you. Holy shit, I thought you were gone for good." He continues in disbelief.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I demand in a harsh whisper, smacking my cards down on the table.
"I could ask you the same thing." He says with a smirk, leaning in. "Detective."
Horror balloons in my chest, rising to near bursting point at his insinuation. A clamoring of distressed thoughts rattles through my brain, one after another, but they all mean one thing. My life could be over because of a low life nobody looking to get out of his next arrest by turning in an NYPD detective. No DA or IAB officer would turn that down.
Rising suddenly from the table, I grab his arm and say through gritted teeth, "Follow me."
I march away from the table, dragging him behind me. I should be more discreet, but my heart is pounding in panic, and all I can think of is convincing him that it would be in his best interests to forget about me.
I stride into a darkened hall, away from the noise and the sight of the gamblers beyond. An exit sign glows red above us, the only light in the dim space.
"Now, listen," I hiss, releasing his arm once I have him up against the wall, "I don't think it's all too wise for you to come in here and cause a fuss, do you?"
"And why not?" He spreads his hands, seemingly unbothered by my aggressive behavior. "I've got my golden ticket, man."
"I could have your ass arrested." I reply, sharply, shoving a finger at his chest.
"Sure." He says, sarcastically. "All I've got to do is point them in the direction of this fine establishment. I'm sure you'll show up nice and pretty on the camera."
"The people here would kill you if you flipped." I argue, though I know it's only a desperate attempt to save my own skin.
"Oh, come on, they'd just set up somewhere else. And what do you think your friends at the NYPD will care more about? Little old me… or a dirty cop?"
I spin away from him, clenching my hands into fists at my sides. My composure is slipping even as I know that showing him weakness is only feeding his confidence. My stomach rolls, and the alcohol I consumed earlier in pleasure is now nauseating me from the bottom of my stomach all the way to the back of my throat.
My mind races as I try to come up with some kind of solution, some kind of bargain that will entice him. I have no money, and I definitely have no pull with my position at SVU. I don't want to believe I'm desperate enough for sexual favors, but with tears pressing at my eyes I wonder if I could fall much lower.
"What do you want?" I whisper, tilting my head back as I try to blink away the emotion.
"Oh, come on." Max laughs. "I don't need anything, sister. You already gave me all I need."
Panic claws harder at my stomach, and with it, a burst of anger at Olivia. If she hadn't answered that goddamn phone call, I wouldn't be in this situation.
"You gonna rat me out to your boss?" I ask, trying to keep my tone even and unflustered.
"Are you kidding?" He laughs. "I'm keeping this all for myself."
I lower my head, breathing out at the small amount of relief. It's one small favor that could change as quickly as the turning of the leaves, but if it's all I've got, I will take it.
"Fine." I reply tightly, turning back towards him. "What will it take to shut you up then?"
"Keep the NYPD out of my shit." He offers, smugly. "I don't get arrested, you don't get arrested."
He pushes away from the wall, swaggering back towards the gambling room.
"Nice seeing you, Amanda." He jabs, laughing as he disappears around the corner, leaving me to tremble in anger in the dark hall.
I want to go after him, pummel him in his gloating face, scream and threaten until he cowers in fear, but all these impulses are useless and could easily get me into more trouble than I already am. I've kept a low profile in this particular club so far, and the last thing I need is to blow my cover.
One thing is for sure - for tonight, I'm done.
xxxxxx
I arrive at the precinct the next morning, underslept and hungover. It's not the first time, but the walk of shame is especially excruciating this morning knowing that Olivia is sitting in the big office. I hardly want to speak to her after my confrontation with Max, much less be reamed for unbecoming conduct.
I make it to my desk with a low sigh of relief.
"Morning." Fin says, glancing up at me from across the desk.
"Morning." I reply, dully, taking a large gulp of the coffee I picked up on my way to the 16th.
My stomach hasn't stopped rolling with anxiety since last night, and the coffee slips uneasily down my throat, but I need something to keep me upright.
"You good?" He asks, leaning back with an inquisitive expression.
"Yep." I answer, shortly. "As long as Liv doesn't throw the book at me."
"Gotcha." Find replies, slowly.
Olivia has been in command for less than a week, and it's already become apparent to everyone in the squad that our newfound work relationship isn't going as smoothly as it is for the rest of them. I don't even dare to wonder at what conclusions they've drawn from that.
I'm just about to sit down when I hear her voice from behind me, causing my stomach to drop.
"Rollins, my office."
"Oh, for Christ's sake." I groan, dropping my bag to the floor with a roll of my eyes.
"Good luck." Fin echoes, returning to his paperwork.
I blow out a breath, trying to force the sloshing of my stomach to calm, but I know this feeling of dread is far from leaving my body.
Turning towards the office, I keep my head down, my fists clenched, as I make my way through the squad room. Once I reach the door, I glance up to see her flipping the blinds closed, one by one.
What the fuck?
I lick my lips, nervously, and step inside, shutting the door behind me. It's more than obvious that this is to be a private meeting.
"What's going on?" I ask, desperately trying to appear composed.
"Have a seat, Amanda." She says, softly, motioning to the chair as she returns to the desk.
"What for?" I ask, not moving from my place by door.
"Because I want to talk to you." She replies.
"You know what, Liv?" I say in an exhausted tone, spreading my hands. "Whatever you're going to say or do… just do it. Don't give me this concerned captain crap. You're not Cragen."
I see her expression shift from across the room as she tilts her head, eyes narrowing.
"No. I'm not Cragen." She replies in a low tone. "That's exactly the point. Now sit down."
She points towards the chair, her sharp command leaving no room for argument. I swallow hard, trying to force the knot out of my throat as I walk slowly to chair and sit down with hardly a glance in her direction.
She takes a seat behind the desk, and I hear her open a drawer. A few papers rustle, and though I want to continue staring rebelliously at the floor, my nerves have left me weak. The curiosity and fear eat at me until I'm forced to flick my gaze towards her.
She holds a plain, yellow envelope on her hands, and her eyes are on me, direct and unnerving.
"Wh-what is it?" I finally whisper, my tone choked.
"Where were you last night, Amanda?" She asks, her voice soft despite the intensity behind it.
My stomach clenches, fearfully, once more, and I shrink down in my seat, my leg beginning to bounce, nervously. I don't know what is inside the envelope, but I can guess that it, undoubtedly, betrays my whereabouts the night before.
"I…" I whisper, my throat catching.
"Don't lie to me." She murmurs, both a plea and a command intertwined in one husky utterance.
She watches me, waiting for me to speak, a confession or a falsehood. A feeling of desperation and mortification seizes me as the strained seconds tick by, pricking my eyes with tears. I want to scramble up from the chair, and run from the room, away from her judging eyes and unerring perception. She wants me to take responsibility for my actions, but the shame of it is too much to bear, especially here, where I have always valued my reputation.
"Liv…please..." I choke at last, and I can feel my features twisting at my own falsity.
"No." She shakes her head, her lips tightening over her teeth in frustration. "It's sergeant in here, and I'm not going to take another day of your insubordination."
"Are you getting off on this?" I burst out, leaning forward in the chair as quick tears rush to my eyes. "You have the power now to make me suffer, and you're going to use it?"
"That's not what this is." She snaps, quickly, her frigid, professional exterior cracking for half a second. "I am your commander now, and I have a duty to ensure that this precinct is abiding by the law."
"Whatever." I shake my head, feeling my body trembling, uncontrollably from head to toe. "You fucked me over, and now you want to make me pay for it."
"Oh, you're talking about him?" Olivia asks, arching her brow as she opens the envelope and snatches a single, shiny, matte photograph from inside.
She smacks it down in front of me, silencing me with the irrefutable evidence of my presence at the club last night - and Max's.
For a moment, all I can do is stare the photo. It's slightly grainy from the dimness inside the club, but there's no doubt that I am sitting at the table, cards in hand - and the screen cap has perfectly caught my expression of horror at Max joining me.
A hundred wild thoughts flood my brain, but they all lead to one place - prison or a ditch on the side of the road.
"I could take this to IAB right now." Olivia whispers, tapping her finger on the picture, and I can hear the anger causing the slightest tremble to steely tone.
"H-How did you find me?" I finally find my voice, asking the only question I dare to know the answer, although it doesn't make much difference now.
"He's not going to hurt you, Amanda." She says, stiffly. "But I could."
"What do you mean?" I breathe, glancing up at her frosty expression. "He's threatening to use me as a get out of jail free card!"
"Not anymore." She says, simply, picking the photo up and slipping it back into this envelope. "So you need to listen to me, right now, and only me because this can go one of two ways. You get back into the program and you stick with it, or… this picture goes to IAB along with the rest of the information I have."
I stare at her, mouth open, heart racing. My brain is splitting in a dozen different directions, spinning with questions and accusations. I don't know whether to thank her for taking care of Max or to hate her for the position that she's put me in with the picture. I don't know whether I'd rather be screwed over by a criminal or my own fucking lover.
"This is a wake up call, Amanda." She finally says when I don't answer. "The last one I'm going to give you."
"Am I supposed to thank you?" I demand in a shocked whisper. "You want me to fall at your feet and beg for you to take me back again?"
I can see her jaw clench, and her hands folding tightly together in front of her. I know she wants to scream at me as she did before, and I hope her new position as sergeant is just as torturous for her as it is for me.
"No." She finally replies, evenly. "I'm telling you as your commanding officer that I'd rather see you arrested by IAB than find you dead somewhere."
"Yeah?" I demand, rising quickly from the chair. "And so what if you did? It'd be your own fucking fault. If you hadn't answered that phone call we wouldn't be here."
"You'd better be thankful that we are here." She returns, her voice rising, as she bolts up from the desk. "You think you're in trouble now? I just want you to imagine where your ass would be if I hadn't poured two fucking years of my life into you!"
Her words ring sharp across the space between us, snapping whatever facade of command had been constructed over this dubious confrontation. Her voice cracks as her rank and position fall away, leaving me staring back a broken woman, the one I've always sworn I love, instead of my sergeant. Instant regret floods my chest, pushing fresh tears to my eyes as we stand in a deadlock.
I want to break. I want to shatter into a thousand bloody shards at her feet, just to make her see that I am in as much agony as she is. I want her to realize that all I've ever wanted is for to pick me up with gentle hands and stand beside me rather than against me…. I want to, but I can't.
"I need to go." I whisper, turning away from her.
My ears are buzzing, my vision blurring in front of me as wander towards the door with no intention or plan of where to go. This could be the last day of my life as I know it, and I can't even have the thing I want most - her.
My hand is on the door when her trembling voice rises.
"I didn't say you could go."
I clench my fingers tight around the handle of the door, my watery gaze slipping between the blinds towards the squad room beyond, a naive world compared to the one in here.
"But you are done with me." I whisper, a damning revelation I've refused to accept for far too long.
I hear her footsteps, and I sag against the door as she reaches me, her fingers sliding about my arm. I let her pull me around, flopping like a rag doll in her grasp. We come face to face though I can hardly make out her features the tears slipping silently down my cheeks.
"I'm never getting you back." I whimper, before she can speak a word.
I press my eyes shut as the pain of that truth spoken aloud crushes my chest, a massive weight dragging me to the bottom where I know I'll surely drown.
"No…." She admits, quietly, and I can hear the pain evident in her voice, ripping us both to shreds. "No, you're not."
"Then let me go." I cry as the sobs rise up to choke me. "Let them me come for me! There's no point in rescuing me now!"
"Amanda, no." She demands, grabbing me by the face. "Your life is not over. You can make this right."
"What's the point without you?" I cry, grabbing at her hands, trying to push her away.
"There's more to life than me." She insists, though I can hear the emotion choking down what's left of her strength.
"No." I pant through the tears, shaking my head. "No, there's fucking not."
Struggling away from her, I grab for the door with the single thought of escaping forever.
"Amanda." She repeats my name in a stronger tone once more, grabbing both of my arms. "I had to do this. Please, believe me when I say I didn't want to because this hurts, Amanda, it hurts!"
Her words cut me, deeply, with the knowledge that she allowed me into the sacred space of her heart, and I have broken through her tender insides again and again, wielding knives of rebellion and selfish pride.
"Just let me go." I beg, despite my every urge to sink back into her arms.
"Amanda, stop." She begs in my ear, wrapping one arm around my chest as I violently struggle against her.
She's almost soft against me, her hands bearing a gentle strength that catches me with painful familiarity. It clouds my mind with memories of how diligently she sought to free me of my addictions in the beginning, but it only reminds me of how her patience faded with time. She grew hard behind layers of scar tissue, from wounds that I gave her. She's trying to heal now, even as I scratch and claw in a place I used to find peace.
It might be the very last time she's ever that close to me, and that devastating thought gives me enough visceral anguish for me to tear myself from her grasp.
"Amanda…" She tries once more, her voice thick with pain, but I can't turn around.
I grab the door handle once more, and though I loathe the thought of the rest of the team seeing me in such a state, I have no other choice.
Rushing out into the squad room, I storm past my desk only to grab my jacket. My metro card is in the pocket, and for now, that's all I need.